Superman : Earth Too
by SuperCharles
Summary: My take on C21st Superman - an alt. Earth One story.


The sign said the Daily Planet. Actually it didn't – it said the Pla..t, and these letters had originally hung over the rear entrance of the still oh so fabulous Art Deco building in down town Metropolis.

Talk about the Planet to anyone under forty and they'd tell you about the five star hotel with the feature globe on the roof.

Some one over forty might remember a News Paper, back in the day when people read News Papers, when they came big, and you had to juggle the pages. It was a simpler time, a black and white age.

Now the only papers were tabloid rags with garish red letter labels, they sold tits n' ass and the latest slice of celebrity gossip. Only a few heavy weights soldiered on in a dwindling market for comment on yesterday's news. Even they increasingly concentrated on their up to the minute on-line presence.

News came over the wireless, via twenty four hours feeds, on the television news channels or over the Internet.

"You sure you want to do this Mr Kent?"

Clark looked at Brockman, a middle aged lawyer, and duly signed the papers. He could see the incredulity in the older man's eyes. He was a kid in jeans and boots, fresh from the boon-docks buying into a run down part of town.

It was done he now owned the Daily Planet, or what was left of her. The name and this lone building, little more than a brick box. Once the Planet had lost the down town building the actual printing had been farmed out, and a rump of the most belligerent staff had retreated here, trying to buck the trend, trying to sell real journalism.

It hadn't lasted long.

Brockman took back the deed, and his pen. He bid the young man from Kansas good bye, glad to be leaving this unsavoury corner of town, glad to close the books on this long forgotten foreclosure.

The old meat packing district, off from the former suicide slums, now a collection of warehousing and cheap offices, and the occasional business doing that increasingly rare trade of actually making something.

Kent pushed the double doors open, the padlocked chain snapping at it's weakest link.

Hitting the switch the fluorescent tubes flickered to life, some of them did, some didn't, some just flashed. He slid the dark glasses from his eyes. Clark's iris's danced and invisibly he killed the irritating clicking tubes.

He picked up his mobile, and dialled. "Jimmy. I did it – we got it, the Planet it's ours."

James Olsen was a couple of years younger than Clark, seventeen he graduated High School early, a smart kid, he lived with his mom in Metropolis, and like Clark he had an absent father, but by Olsen senior had left by choice. Clark's Pa had died the previous year, and his life insurance policy had included an cash annuity for his only son, once the mortgage on the Kent Farm had been cleared.

Clark heard the motorcycle long before the red headed youth pulled into the yard of the unremarkable square industrial lot, and Jimmy tore through the open door into the former news room, sliding to a triumphant halt.

Clark lent against the wall, his hoodie covering his dark hair, his leather jacket hung loose around him, it had that battered look you only get from thrift shopping for yesterday's generations returning fashions.

Jimmy favoured brighter colours, his flame orange bikers jacket matched his bike and his hair. Oslen killed the engine of the sports bike, dismounted, and walked over to one of the industrial grey desks. There were dozen or so in the room, each covered in years of dust that smothered yellowing plastic sheets. Jimmy yanked the one nearest to him clear, beneath was a computer, faded into that old plastic cream.

"That's got to belong in a museum."

Clark smiled, the ancient CRT Monitor had one colour; green. "I guess they just abandoned them when the Planet folded."

He pushed back his hood, as he brushed past his friend.

Jimmy's camera flashed catching him in profile. "Documenting the beginning." Olsen said.

Clark clandestinely popped the lock on the main office, set back from the News room on the left side. On the door in a cheap plastic faux brass printed label it said. "Lois Lane – Editor."

The room smelled of neglect, beneath that Clark detected, cigarette smoke, Channel No.5 and Bourbon.

"Kind of strange to think of WGBS-TV anchor here." Jimmy said pointing to the plaque.

"Twenty years ago, it was a different world." Clark replied.

"I don't know I wasn't born." Jimmy laughed.

As far as the world was concerned the same was true of Clark Kent, he didn't dwell on his secret origins, instead he unpacked his laptop, the internet dongle connected to the nearest cell tower, and he brought up their new web page.

'The Daily Planet. The Internet Newspaper of Twenty First Century – Local News from your Global Village.'

And adjusted the settings.

"We're live. We own the label – we own the building." Clark said.

Jimmy smiled. "With your prose and my pictures – is the world ready for us?"

Clark smiled. "They say the gospel for Century Twenty One reads, and lo' the Geeks shall inherit the Earth."

Jimmy laughed and shook his head.

Clark reflected how they had met online, two guys with similar interests, living vicariously on the net.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

"I still think you should have kept your money, we were fine blogging from home – you and Kansas, me in Metropolis... This is a big risk."

"I wanted a slice of the big Apricot myself." Clark replied. "And besides – what does Metropolis most famous son say. "stocks may rise and fall, utilities and transportation systems may collapse. People are no damn good, but they will always need land and they'll pay through the nose to get it! Remember," my father said land."

Jimmy mixed a frown with a smile. "Yeah this is a prime slice of real estate for sure. Lex Luthor must be real mad you beat him to it."

Clark laughed.

"Come one – you're the artist, look at this place with those eyes – what do you see?"

Jimmy toyed with his camera, for a moment.

"Well once we've swept a decade or so of dust from the joint, got rid of the desks, set up a decent broadband feed." James pointed to the storage lofts - one above the office, and on the other side of the building, above the bathroom and small kitchen. "Then I'd say there's a couple of rooms – one for you, one for me." He waved his arms in the space between. "Plenty of privacy – and down here on the main floor, I reckon there's room for a hot tub and a big big wide screen, set up some speakers, some lights,"

Clark laughed "Yeah a real bachelor pad."

"Of course – with that neo-industrial minimalist feel. The girls love that."

"So not such a dumb idea after all?"

"No." Jimmy laughed. "And if it all goes hideously wrong, we're still young enough to start college right?"

Clark removed his heavy dark glasses. "Whatever could possibly go wrong?"


End file.
